by Sosie Frost
Coach Thompson’s voice was a shrill as the whistle. It silenced the field. “Carson!”
What the hell. I was in a rhythm. Why the fuck were we stopping?
I abandoned the practice and jogged to the coaching staff, strategizing over the playbook. The rest of the team buzzed the field, some running laps, some doing plays, most of the new recruits shitting themselves while trying to make a good impression.
I guess I was in that position too. My contract renegotiation hadn’t started yet. I doubted they’d let me wallow through the last year of what I originally signed. It’d be a monumentally shitty idea for the team, especially after how good I looked at this year’s training camp.
I was bigger than last season. Stronger. Fitter. I knew the offense better than the layout of my house. And I had a reason to win—not just because I was the most insanely gifted quarterback to enter the league in twenty years.
I had my pride to regain. A lost game to forget. And they knew it.
“Carson, you’re gonna watch your motherfucking mouth on that field.” Coach Thompson pointed at me with a pudgy finger. “In fact, you’re gonna shut that mouth. Throw the damn ball and do your job.”
The insult cracked deep. I narrowed my eyes. “Haven’t I done that?”
“You showboat when you got a ring on your finger to show what hot shit you are. You brag in the minutes after that final win. As of now?” He tapped his watch. “New season, Play-Maker. You’re on my time now, and there ain’t no winners or losers yet. You gotta prove yourself, same as anyone else.”
“You’re kidding, right?”
The coach was a beefy man, a former lineman that forgot he wasn’t burning thousands of calories in exercise a day anymore. He tried to intimidate me. Didn’t matter how many clipboards he held in front of his face, he wasn’t pissing with me.
I took another drink and hoped it was the heat that made me so fucking irritable. I pitched the water bottle at my feet and turned back to my team.
Coach Thompson snorted at me. “You think you’re special, Jack?”
I’d shove that whistle down his throat. I faced him, eyes narrowed, every muscle in my body tensed and ready to prove that I was a one-in-a-million athlete that wouldn’t tolerate his bullshit much longer.
“What the hell is your problem?” I pointed to the field. “I have fifty-two men I’m leading back to the championship. And you know what I’m gonna get?”
“A win this time?”
“Re-fucking-demption. Don’t tell me I gotta prove myself. I know exactly what I need to do.”
He nodded at the other coaches, backing them down as I felt my temper baited, checked, and about to rage. He patted my shoulder, but the son of a bitch didn’t have a right to rile me up just to shit on me when the urge came over him.
“You’ve been doing good these past few weeks, Jack. Staying out of trouble.”
“Don’t patronize me.”
“Don’t give me a reason to treat you like a child.”
I knew better than to say a damn thing. If I let loose, I’d be overheard by the media hanging too close. They always descended when they thought there’d be fireworks.
Fuck em. I wasn’t giving them any fodder to take to Leah. It was bad enough she still dealt with the car accident and the camera incident. Those scandals complicated my nights with my publicist, when she had to bitch at me before I tossed her in bed and tried to knock her up.
It had been a good couple weeks of attempts though. Leah’s pussy was great stress relief. Something about getting a girl like her in trouble—even if she gave me permission—was sexy enough to get me hard every minute of every day.
Coach Thompson grabbed my shoulder. It was a bad move, but I let him pull me back.
“Listen to me, Jack. You’re keeping your head down. You’re doing good work. You’re on time. And you weren’t with Bryon when he got into that mess with the slut downtown. You’re doing what you’re supposed to be doing. You understand me?”
I did, so why was I resisting it? “Yeah. I’m the league’s newest lapdog. You taught me not to bark in the house, but you still want me neutered.”
“Damn right, we do. You’re gonna stay on this path.”
“I am?”
“Yes, you are. I don’t know why this is always a fight with you.” He pointed to the field, watching as the men ran plays without me. “You are one of the most gifted athletes I’ve ever seen, but you refuse to cooperate with anyone. You’re aggressive. You throw temper tantrums. You insist on using your cock to make your big decisions.”
Couldn’t argue with that, but when had my cock led me wrong?
“This past month, you’ve been behaving—and yes, I say behaving because you’re the only goddamned adult I have to treat like a teenager. I got kids at home, Jack, I don’t need another crew of ungrateful shits here, you get me?” He looked me over, but he still didn’t try to respect me. “You haven’t been partying as much.”
Yeah, cause I was balls deep in Leah at night, trying my damnest to make her orgasm so hard she’d pass out on my dick. Every man had a dream. This one was new. Didn’t involve a championship game, but it took up a lot of my nights.
“You’re focused, Jack,” he said. “You’re concentrating. You’re in great shape. You’re not hiding in your sunglasses cause you have a raging hangover. You understand now? You’re ready to lead this team the way it should be led, and you’re becoming the man you were supposed to be three years ago. I don’t know what changed, but something flipped that switch in your head. It’s going to bring us to victory.”
I didn’t change. Nothing changed. Christ, people were so fucking desperate to see connections and stories in my behavior. Nothing happened unusual.
Nothing except Leah.
Nothing except pretending to be in a relationship with a cocoa-skinned goddess. A woman of class, grace, and absolute sensuality who wanted nothing more than for me to take her again and again until I seeded her with my child.
I guessed that was different.
Coach Thompson waddled onto the field to yell at the defense. Coach Wallace, the quarterback coach, winked at me. He patted my shoulder before grabbing a playbook to consult with Matt.
“Jack, you are playing better. Considerably. Don’t you feel it?”
Yes. “I guess.”
“Then I’d keep doing what you’re doing regardless of who it pleases. So long as you get the results, what the hell does it matter if it keeps the league and Coach Thompson happy? Keep that good luck charm or the new exercise routine. It’s working.”
Except it wasn’t luck or me.
It was Leah.
Holy shit, they were right. It wasn’t just my image. It was Leah.
I grabbed another bottle of water and sprayed off the sweat. My eyes searched the crowd. Enough people and press, kids and fans crowded around the outdoor practice facility. Training camp was a big event, and a lot of people came to watch the open practices.
Today, I knew where to look. Leah promised to stop by during her lunch. I scanned the faces in the crowd until I found her. She took my advice and waited beside the field, beyond the ropes cordoning off the fans from those who had clearance to be close to players.
God, she was beautiful.
And smiling.
And fanning herself in the heat as she sought the shade on the sidelines. She twisted her visitor’s pass and used it to cool her face. Her wave was half-hearted, and she stumbled.
Backward.
My stomach pitted as she wobbled again. I shouted, sprinting across the field and pushing through my teammates. I hopped over the equipment set up next to the sidelines. My legs pumped harder than I ran for the forty, and I was certain I broke my own goddamned records to rush to Leah.
I didn’t reach her in time.
Leah fainted before I made it, but she woke as soon as her butt slammed into the ground.
“Kiss!” I scooped her from the turf and carried her to the nearest bench
. I pointed at a trainer. “You! Get your ass over here!”
Leah waved me away, rubbing her head. She sweated, but she managed a weak smile.
“I’m just hot,” she said. “I’m sorry. I’m okay. I’m hot.”
Well, good for fucking her. I was chilled to my core.
“Sit here.” I searched for the trainer. “Bring her some fucking water!”
“Language.” Leah pointed to the kids nearby, as well as the sport reporter chasing us across the field to get a picture. “Gotta be careful.”
“Fuck being careful. Are you okay?”
The trainer hurried to our side—a nosy little redhead who busted the guys’ balls and had a bad habit of ferreting out concussions. She edged me away and offered Leah water and a cool towel.
“Miss?” The trainer felt her pulse and gave her a drink. “It’s very hot today. Were you in the sun for too long?”
“Look at her—she’s well done.” I forced a joke. It didn’t ease the twisting in my gut.
Leah smirked as I poked her dark skin. “I’m just hot.”
“You might have some heat cramps, maybe exhaustion. Do you have a headache?”
“No, I got dizzy.”
“Nausea?”
She glanced over the growing pack of fans and press. My teammates and coaches also started to crowd, checking on why the star quarterback freaked the fuck out and ran fifty yards to help a girl off the ground.
If nothing else, the pictures of me scooping her up and helping the trainer would give me that prince charming image Leah so desperately cultivated. Lately she had leaked stories of dining and dancing and long stemmed roses delivered to her work. That wasn’t a line for the media. I sent her a dozen roses as an apology after every morning of fucking that made her late to work.
She was starting to like getting the roses.
“Miss?” The trainer asked. “Are you nauseous?”
“With all these people staring at me…yeah.”
I smirked. “You get used to it. Just swear a little. Wave a champagne bottle. They love to hate that.”
The trainer had no patience for me. “Were you nauseous before you fainted?”
“Maybe? I’m okay now.”
She nodded. “We should take you inside and cool you down. Did you get hurt when you fell?”
“No.”
“Have anything to drink today? Anything alcoholic?”
“It’s only eleven o’clock?” She pointed at me before I made a joke about it being happy hour somewhere. “And don’t you say anything.”
The trainer took her pulse again. “Any medical conditions? Diabetes? Heart disease?”
“No.”
“Any chance you might be pregnant?”
And just like that, Leah froze.
So did I.
We both counted the days, though I had no idea where I was supposed to start counting or why. Leah said some nights were better than others for our chances. I fucked her indiscriminately to ensure they’d all be good.
Leah covered her mouth with her hand, staring at me with wide, startled, absolutely beautiful mocha eyes. She didn’t speak, but I knew the answer.
Yes.
It wasn’t a chance that she was pregnant.
She was.
She had to be.
She leapt into my arms with a squeal, burying her face in my shoulder as the excitement turned to tears. I held her close, grinning like a fucking idiot at the trainer who probably thought Leah was the world’s worst patient.
“You gotta go get checked out,” I said. “What if something—”
“I’m okay…” Leah pulled away, sharing my grin. “I know I’m okay.”
“Go to a doctor?” I asked. “Please.”
“Right now.”
I glanced over the field. “I’ll come too.”
“It’s okay.” She stood on her tip-toes and kissed me, earning a clap from the growing crowds. “I promise. I’ll go in right now. Meet you at your house?”
“Yeah…”
The trainer offered her arm, and Leah took it, beaming a beautiful smile that sucked every bit of courage from me.
At least she was taking it well.
Pregnant.
We did it.
I was having a baby.
The revelation got to me. I crumpled on the bench and nearly puked. Coach Thompson shouted for me to return to practice.
Holy fuck.
What the hell was I supposed to do now?
Coach yelled again. “Get your ass on the field, Jack!”
The adrenaline surged through me. I did what I was told and jogged to the huddle.
And I played even better than I had before. Now I had two reasons my game was improving.
Nothing was going to stop me from getting everything I ever wanted.
But I wasn’t sure the championship was all I wanted anymore.
13
Leah
I didn’t know what to do.
I didn’t need a doctor. I probably needed to sit down. I should have wanted a stiff drink but that wasn’t a good idea now.
The trainers said to wait it out, drink some Gatorade, and let an ambulance take me to the hospital. I refused, staying until the dizziness stopped and I could make it to my doctor without the media blitz.
This wasn’t a story I wanted spread unless it was absolutely true.
The doctor confirmed our suspicions with a smile.
I didn’t believe her. I left her office and bought three other tests before heading to Jack’s. If I wasn’t dehydrated before, I was now.
The tests all said the same thing.
Pregnant.
Holy. Hell.
I always wondered how it’d feel when it happened. I once pictured a very different life. Husband. Stability. A candlelit dinner and me brushing Wyatt’s hand, whispering my excitement. That was the romance I planned. I imagined soft music playing while I revealed to him how our lives would change. I thought we’d dance in candlelight and just enjoy that miracle.
I could have made Jack a dinner. Maybe? But he already knew. There wasn’t much of a mystery anymore, and I didn’t know what to serve for such a blessed revelation. Or what music to play. What we’d do after we confirmed the pregnancy…
And Christ, there was no comparing Jack and Wyatt, even if every time I imagined that gentle dance, I saw me swaying in Jack’s arms.
This was so not how I planned my life, but I wasn’t regretting it. Not in the least—and that was weirder than everything. The past six weeks of “dating” Jack by day and rolling in his bed at night wasn’t structured or planned.
But it was fun.
Was life supposed to be fun? Having a baby was a serious, life-altering event. We had to plan things and organize everything and prepare for a multitude of changes and events and—
I grabbed a pen, paper, and my laptop. I could make a list of things that were immediately necessary. Doctors and more vitamins, insurance changes. One afternoon, and I’d map out our life for the first trimester, at least. Maybe tonight I’d tackle the second…
Jack’s car roared up the driveway. He didn’t wait for the garage doors to open. Jack leapt out as soon as he parked and sprinted into the house. The front door slammed behind him, and he bellowed my name like it was Christmas morning and I was the present waiting for him under the tree.
“Kiss?” He held his arms out, phone in hand. I already texted him the news. He wanted more. “Tell me it’s true.”
I held up the three home-pregnancy tests. “It’s true.”
His smile only faltered for a split second. “That’s really gross. Drop those before you give me a kiss.”
“Oh, come on, Jack—”
“Kiss me, Kiss!”
I dropped my notebook and paper and the tests, but Jack swooped over me before I could move. His arms captured me. I sucked in a breath to reveal it again.
“Jack, I’m—”
He didn’t let me finish.
His kiss overwhelmed me, stealing the words, savoring the truth, and hiding it from the world so it could be ours and ours alone.
I hadn’t expected the kiss, but my body desired nothing but his lips, his touch, his cock. Six weeks of complete and utter passion had left me starved for any contact, any attention from a man who operated on pure testosterone. I’d warned him it’d be harder than it seemed to get pregnant, and that it might take some months of trials. I thought he’d be demoralized.
Jack took it as a personal challenge.
I should have known not to doubt him.
He fucked me every morning. Every night. Sometimes in between. My life became little more than the impatient hours when I wasn’t in his bed.
His cock hardened. My body responded, melting into his arms and sighing in his kiss. I moaned against him and let his dominating tongue lure me into that fuzzy, heated world where I lost all control.
God, what were we doing?
Jack’s hands drifted over my curves, grasping me as if he hadn’t felt the softness of my skin for decades, not hours. We fucked in the morning. Passionate. Fast. Demanding. I rode him, seizing the pleasure he gave. Again and again. My orgasm was frenzied, and I knew something had changed.
I just had no idea how much.
What were we doing?
I pulled from his arms and released a shaky breath. “Jack, we should…talk.”
“Talk?” He didn’t know the meaning of the word. “Kiss, we need to celebrate!”
“Celebrate?”
“Damn right! We should hit the town. Go out for dinner. Fuck, we’ll go out for two. Have the second deliver to the first restaurant. What do you think? Italian and sushi?”
“I…I don’t think I can have sushi now—”
“We have to tell everyone!”
Not a good idea. “Jack, we can’t announce it yet. It’s too early. We don’t say anything until I’m about twelve weeks along.”
“Twelve weeks?” He groaned. “This is huge, Kiss! What’s the point if we don’t tell anyone?”
“We just want to be safe.” I bit my lip. “So we don’t…you know, jinx it.”
“Oh…can we still be excited?”
God, he was cute. “Of course.”
He grinned. “Perfect. Then…we’ll go out. Hit a club. Dance. You can’t drink now, but I’ll buy a bottle of sparkling grape juice. Or…better yet…” His grin turned mischievous. “I’ll go rent us the biggest, swankiest, most luxurious hotel in the city.”
